


Captain to Soldier; America to Winter

by ArvisTaljik



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha rut, Alpha!Bucky Barnes, Alpha!Steve Rogers, Alpha!Tony Stark, Angst, Beta!Natasha Romanov, Beta!Sam Wilson, Beta!Scott Lang, Brainwashing, But NOT how you think ;), Coffee Machine from the FUTURE!, Feels, FixIt!Fic, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oh the Smut..., Omega!Clint Barton, Omega!Wanda Maximoff, Omegaverse, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Scenting, Smut, Snark, WinterSoldier!Cap, a/b/o dynamics, recovery!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArvisTaljik/pseuds/ArvisTaljik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two weeks since Steve went to rescue the rest of Team Cap from The Raft and it's now come time for Bucky to make his decision about whether to return to cryo.  He's yet to talk it over with Steve and he just hopes that he'll understand why he has to do this.</p><p>****************</p><p>The A/B/O fic where a happy accident (accidentally on purpose?) manages to fix Bucky's brainwashing but also comes with some unintended, scary, but somehow also rather endearing, consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fight or Fuck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220910) by [kaasknot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my betas ATaylor and LeelaLaFleur!!!
> 
> They keep me sane and on track. :) *throws confetti at them*

 

* * *

 

Morning came to Wakanda the same as it did to every other nation on Earth. The sun rose slowly over the horizon, bathing the lush forests in warm light that transition from pink to orange in the space of a few minutes.  The light warmed the low morning fog of the mountainous and fertile terrain and cast The Refuge in a surreal glow that made it seem a kingdom among the clouds, a small piece of heaven plucked from the sky and placed down upon the Earth.

All of it guarded by a giant panther carved out of rock with a waterfall in its mouth.  Okay fine, so there was no accounting for the eclectic sense of style but it made sense to someone at some point in history so who was Bucky to argue?

Mornings in Wakanda were utterly beautiful and serene. No, that wasn't the problem.  James Barnes could appreciate beauty in many forms. Human forms, the forms of nature, the forms of the universe.  Everything around him held some kind of beauty or another.

Oh no, the beauty of the morning was not the problem at all. The problem was the floor-to-ceiling windows in his lavishly appointed 'room' that turned waking up in the morning into the equivalent of getting hit by a semi-truck with headlights as bright as the sun itself.

When the offending beams of sunlight reached Bucky's face, he let out a displeased moan and tried to bury his head under the plush blankets of his bed. It worked, but only for about a minute or two.  As the sun continued to rise, the yellow and orange beams of sunfire manage to push themselves through the small gaps in the threads of the fabric to once again assault his poor eyelids.

Right at this moment, Bucky was willing to give HYDRA a break.  The Sun was the most offensive and disgusting thing in his little universe right now and how he wished he had a sniper rifle that could reach all the way to its hydrogen-heated surface and snuff it out if only to gain a few more minutes of sleep.

Conclusion:  Bucky is not a morning person.  Bucky has _never_ been a morning person.

After a further fifteen minutes of attempting, read:  failing, to get more sleep, Bucky decides that this battle has to be called in favor of winning the war that is the day ahead.  Grumpily tossing the covers off himself and sliding into the pair of slippers by the bedside, he pads out of his room in search of the one thing that can soothe the pang of defeat from being bested by the sun:  coffee.

Several minutes later, he arrives in the communal kitchen area of The Refuge to find an unusually jovial Wanda working away over the counters. There's a pleasant scent in the air, one that sets his senses at ease:   _happy Omega_.

Hrm, Bucky hadn't scented anything off the girl during the time they'd fought together in Germany less than a month ago, but he could chock that up to adrenaline and being on the run for days.  Also, jet fuel.  Somehow, of all the things on earth, the smell of jet fuel could block any and all identifying scents from an Alpha, Beta, or Omega regardless of how powerful or concentrated they were.  Too bad jet fuel didn't smell like daisies, then they could market that shit and sell it the whole world over for a huge profit. Well, they could sell it if it didn't also get people high off their rockers and eventually cause brain damage.   So yeah, no huffing jet fuel.

Walking up to the large and overly complicated looking contraption that passes as a coffee machine, Bucky is slightly startled when it addresses him.

_"Good morning. Please make a selection."_

Okay, so the 21st century is now officially a head trip. Never mind HYDRA brainwashing, never mind the whole super-soldier serum, and never mind history's long and traumatic march through the issues of Alpha/Beta/Omega rights.  Never mind any of that. The coffee machine just _spoke_.

Bucky isn't sure how long he stood there staring slack-jawed at the miracle of the modern age in front of him before he noticed that Wanda had paused in her cooking endeavours to give him a slightly mischievous, if knowing, smile.

"Need a hand?" she asked in her thick Sokovian accent.

"Ummm," ‘ _Save me_?!’ his brain fills in.

"I'll take that as a yes." Setting down the spatula in her hand, Wanda walks over to help him. "How do you take your coffee?"

Bucky's answer is automatic. He's taken his coffee exactly the same way ever since he was old enough to try it for the first time back in 1929.  "Black, with lots of sugar."

Wanda gives him another of her ever-knowing smiles because, of course, The Winter Soldier has the biggest soft spot for sweets of anyone on the planet. More likely, the entire universe.

"Here, I'll show you how to do that."

With Bucky offering his complete attention, Wanda shows him how to select the type of coffee he wants, how much he wants, and what things to add to it.  Filing away the exact button sequence and the options off the machine's plethora of menus for later, he's momentarily rewarded with the light smell of a freshly brewing single-serving cup of coffee.

Mission having been accomplished, Wanda returns to the stove to flip several strips of bacon to check their color before sliding them onto the growing pile already on a plate.

Coffee now in hand, Bucky claims a seat at one of the counter-height stools and takes a full whiff of his cup of black gold.  Languishing in the scent of the freshly brewed beans he can tell he's now adding his own _contented Alpha_ scent to the mixture already in the room.  Looking over to where Wanda is finishing up her current cooking task, he can tell she's noticed it too as her smile is just the tiniest bit brighter.

Several minutes later Sam makes his way into the room with his eyes barely half open and his slippered feet dragging on the tile.  He makes a bee-line, albeit slowly, towards the space-age Star Trek-style coffee replicator without so much as acknowledging either Bucky nor Wanda.

"Sam?" Bucky asks from over the top of his coffee.

Sam responds immediately by holding up his hand towards Bucky's face in the universal STFU gesture. "It is _far_ too early for me to deal with your face right now, Barnes."

"Good morning to you too, princess pigeon." Bucky quips with a smirk.

"You know, I _still_ hate you, right?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Boys," Wanda looks up from her pan of scrambling eggs, "play nice or I will _make_ you play nice."

Bucky smiles. Despite being an Omega, Wanda is still _unfathomably_ powerful and has absolutely no fear when it comes to standing up to anyone, regardless of their status.

"Yes, ma'am." Sam replies while punching buttons on the machine in front of him.

Sam is the consummate Beta.  He's the peacemaker, usually, and prides himself on being the balance point in the odd dynamic that is, read: was, the Avengers.  However, now that they're down to simply "Team Cap," that dynamic has been thrown for just the slightest bit of a loop.

Bucky knows, without a doubt, that Sam has reservations about him.  Betas aren't typically that strongly opinionated but Sam seems to take anything that affects Steve, their unequivocal pack Alpha, with deadly seriousness.  The other thing Bucky knows is that Sam's reticence stems directly from his own effect on one Steven Grant Rogers.

Bucky, plain and simple, is Steve's undoing. You don't flip the bird to 117 nations for a 'friend.'  Sam can read between the lines like he was trained in the womb for specifically _that_ task.  Yup, consummate Beta.

The thing is, Sam could understand doing mildly crazy things for a friend, and even stupid crazy things for a bondmate.  The assumption that Bucky was Steve's bondmate was the only one that made complete sense but upon meeting the guy, Sam had picked up the clear scent of Alpha and that sent his head spinning every which way to Sunday.

 _Two Alphas_ ? What in the Sam Hill? Does that even work? _How_ does that work? Nope, you know what? Sam doesn't even want to know how that works because it shouldn't. It shouldn't and it likely doesn't and the two of them probably have some sort of strange lifelong frenemy relationship going on because two Alphas are more likely to _kill_ one another than be able to cohabitate with the other. _Especially_ when one, or both, of them goes through a rut.

But then there's Steve.  Steve talks about Bucky like he hangs the moon. Like he's the most important person in the world to him despite the fact that they are clearly not bonded and never could be. Could they?  Nope, not a chance in hell.

So what Sam doesn't understand, he decides to hate instead. Why? Because hating it is a hell of a lot easier than trying to wrap his head around whatever-the-hell it is that exists between Captain America and The Winter Soldier.

As Sam's chosen drink finishes extracting itself from the coffee-slash-time machine, which is probably powered by a hole in the space-time continuum that spews coffee ad infinitum, Bucky speaks up again.

"So where's Steve?"

"Dunno, dun care." Sam deadpans.

"He's still in his room," is Wanda's much more helpful response.

"He didn't go running?" Bucky thinks it odd that Steve isn't sticking to his routine. They haven't been here at The Refuge all that long but Steve is the poster child for the concept of being a 'creature of habit.'

Wanda simply shakes her head ‘no.’

The sad thing, Bucky thinks, is that Steve's routine is really just a coping mechanism.  Steve had wanted Bucky to room with him on the first day they arrived but Bucky just couldn't bring himself to sleep in the same room as the man for fear of hurting him.

That's actually part of the reason why he wants to talk to Steve now.  He's already had a conversation with T'Challa and it's looking like putting himself back into cryo is the only viable option until they can find a way to remove HYDRA's handiwork from his head.

Everyone on Team Cap will support his decision, hell Sam would be first in line to press the big red button on the cryo tube and set the timer to 'never wake up,' but Steve was going to be the one he really had to convince to let him go.

The funny thing is, it's not like Steve and Bucky haven't fought before and, of course, Steve can easily defend himself. Sure, their occasional fights as teens, and later as young twenty-somethings, had typically been rut-induced, but Bucky had found a solution to that particular problem that worked far better than he'd expected.

But, while a rut often reduced an Alpha to pure instinct a couple times a day for a few days, it didn't turn them into a _weapon_ . Brainwashing, specifically the HYDRA variety, did that. The worst part of it was that Bucky was an Alpha _and_ brainwashed.

HYDRA had been careful to suppress his ruts over his 70-year stint of being their freezer-burnt puppet, so as to prevent rut-rage from interfering with a mission.  Without whatever they had used on him though, Bucky feared what it could mean if he did hit a rut and it somehow interacted with the leftover brainwashing to create something, some _one_ , even worse.

Bucky simply couldn't take the risk. He couldn't take the risk with the man he loves and he certainly wouldn't take the risk with that man’s friends. Except maybe Sam, but even he doesn't deserve that kind of treatment.

Wanda is the one to offer Bucky a reassuring smile. "Are you going to talk to him today?"

"Yeah," he sighs.  "Need to get it out in the open. He's not going to like my decision, but it's for the best."

She places a small, petite hand on his shoulder in a show of support. "Just be honest with him. He will understand."

Nodding slightly, Bucky stands from the counter, leaving his coffee behind. "Wish me luck."

"You will be fine, James." Wanda smiles again.

"Mmmhmm." Sam manages to hum through his coffee.

So with another sigh, Bucky straightens his shoulders and cracks his neck before walking back toward the residential wing.

Less than a minute later, he's standing in front of Steve's door.  Steve's room is just one over from his own but it strikes him as odd that the door is closed since the man usually keeps it open.  It's the literal translation of the 'open door policy' since Steve is always happy and willing to talk to his teammates whenever they need anything.

Bucky should really start calling them what they are though, and that's _pack_ mates.  They're Steve's pack and, while it does sadden him, he can't really be a part of it. Not yet at least.

Leaning his head on the door, he knocks lightly with his one hand.  When there is no response for a good 20 seconds, he knocks again.

That's when he hears it. It's muffled through the thickness of the door but he can hear it if he puts all his super-soldier hearing into it.

Steve is whining. Not just whining though, he's alternating between low growls and high-pitched whines.  What's clear though is that Steve is trying to keep them quiet and Bucky is probably the only person on the planet, besides Steve himself, who could manage to still hear the quiet sounds through the door.

Bucky decides that it's time for the direct approach, calling through the door, "Hey Steve, you okay?"

The only sound he gets in response is a slightly more audible, and definitely a lot longer, high-pitch whine from the other side.

Now Bucky is truly worried.  Whining like that is a clear sign of pain, and to his knowledge Steve hasn’t hurt himself.  Not only that but the serum in him would have him healed from any sort of injury in the space of 48 to 72 hours.  Taking all that into account, there must be something seriously wrong with him if he whining this insistently.

“Steve, I’m coming in, okay?” he calls through the door before turning the knob and pushing it open.

The sight that greets him makes his heart sink.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms folded over his stomach as though he’s braced against some kind of pain. His face and arms are covered in a sheen of sweat and his hair is matted down because of the moisture.  The worst part is that his pupils are blown out wide and he’s staring off into space as though there isn’t anyone at home upstairs.

Then it really hits Bucky. The _smell_ . The room is filled to the brim with _pure Alpha_. Steve is trying to fight off his rut.

‘Oh, shit,’ his brain supplies for him. No,  he’s got this. He was the one back before the war that made the decision to submit to Steve because he loved the man unconditionally and he wouldn’t let something as stupid as them both being Alphas stand in the way of that.

There was definitely more of an issue this time around though.  Back then, Steve had never tried to suppress his own ruts by sheer will.  Then again, when you’re 130 pounds soaking wet, your body can’t exactly be expected to succeed, regardless of how badly you will it to.

This time, there had been no warning of any kind that Steve’s rut was coming on and that only meant one thing; he was _willing_ his body to suppress it. But that wasn’t the worst part.

No, the worst part is that physically suppressing a rut meant that when you couldn’t hold it down any longer, it had to tendency to hit you like jumbo jet falling out of the sky:  hard and fast and completely uncontrollable.

Bucky’s head began to swim with the familiar _fight or fuck_ instinct that presents itself during a rut and he fought his own brain tooth and nail to push it back down. He’s done this for Steve before and Steve has done this for him.  It’ll be rough, and it’s been _decades_ , but they can do this together. Bucky knows with infinite surety that they can get through this as long as they have each other.

Moving slowly and closing the door behind him, Bucky places his one hand in the air to present himself as a non-threat before speaking. “Stevie, you okay there?”

“Buckyyyy…” it comes out as more of a whine than anything else.

“Babe, you gotta help me here, okay?”

“Can’t Buck, I can’t.”

“You’re holding it back, Stevie. You know you can’t do that.” Bucky continues as he starts to move around the bed towards the opposite side.

“Have to Buck. I have to…” Steve pleads as he lets out another plaintive whine.

“No, you don’t have to Stevie. I’m gonna help you, okay babe?”

“Can’t help me. Know you don’t want to stay with me.” Steve’s eyes are now shut tight as the pain continues to build in his chest.

“What do you mean?” Slowly opening the drawer in the night stand he finds what he presumed Steve would have there. He’s got lube and several clean hand towels; the Star Spangled Man with a Plan indeed.

“Don’t want me, Buck. Want to… freeze… cryo… again.”  The pain must be extremely bad if Steve is having a hard time forming full sentences now.

Well shit. He and Steve practically already thought on the same wavelength so it would figure that he’d come to the same conclusion about going into cryo. The only difference was that Steve didn’t see it as a necessity, he saw it as rejection. Bucky hadn’t thought about that.

That single thought changed everything. If Steve was going to take his entering cryo again as rejection, then he couldn’t do that to him. Especially if it meant that the man was going to put his own personal safety at risk because he didn’t want to go through a rut with anyone but Bucky. _That_ made his mind up for him.

“I’m here Stevie. I’m ain’t goin nowhere.” Bucky slowly lets himself down onto the bed before pulling his legs up and reaching toward the other Alpha.

Steve flinches when Bucky’s hand touches the small of his back.  “Buckyyyyyy…” he whines again.

“C’mon babe, you gotta let it go,” he soothes as he start to rub small circles into the muscles of his back.

“I… Bucky… I,” Steve stammers. He’s starting to relax but the pain must still be intense.

“What is it Stevie?” Bucky has now moved up behind the blonde, hoping that his presence helps reassure him all while continuing to stamp down his own _fight or fuck_ instinct.

“I… love… you… Buck,” the Alpha manages to grind out through pain-clenched teeth.

“I know you do, Steve,” he replies smoothly. “I love you too.”

It’s then that the shift starts to happen.  Bucky can smell, almost feel, the change and increase in Steve’s pheromones. In the space of a few seconds the scent in the room changes from _pure Alpha_ to _strong Alpha_ and finishes with the powerful scent of _possessive Alpha_.

Well that’s new. In all the ruts he and Steve have helped each other through before the war, Steve’s never smelled like that.

Along with the scent change, Steve starts to gain some of his lucidity back, opening his eyes as the pain subsides and lets him be himself for a few moments.

“Buck, I…”

“Shhhhh, Steve,” Bucky cuts him off. “Help me undress here?”

“Sure, okay.”

It’s only been a couple weeks that he’s been without his metal left arm and it’s been hell-and-a-half getting used to doing things one handed.  The worst part is getting clothing on and off.

Steve moves over Bucky and gently tugs the hem of his sleep shirt up and over his torso before gently pulling it off from around his head. Bucky tries to return the favor, albeit one-handedly, and Steve has to step in to finish the job.

Now both shirtless, Steve moves forward, wedging himself between the other Alpha’s legs and hovering over his bare chest.

“So beautiful, Buck. You look so good.”

“You’re a looker yourself there Steve-o,” Bucky replies through a smile.

When Steve presses  his nose into the crook of his partner’s neck, using it to move his jaw around as he scents him, Bucky is suddenly taken back to their first time.

The first time he helped Steve through a rut and, subsequently, the last time he ever considered using some other Omega or Beta to help him through his own ruts. That first time had been so crazily amazing that neither Bucky nor Steve ever felt compelled to seek out anyone but each other. Alpha pairing stigmas being damned.

As Steve presses his nose into the bared flesh of his neck, Bucky takes the opportunity to return the favor and scent him back.

God, Steve smells _amazing_ .  He smells warm and strong and like _home_. Bucky also knows that Steve must be picking up the same things from him because he’s starting to moan and growl into his neck.

Things are about to pick up pace and they’re still half dressed.

“Steve, gotta get those sweats off ya.”

“Just a bit more Buck, please…” Steve moans while continuing to scent his neck.

“Pants you punk.”

“Fine, jerk,” Steve retorts with mock indignance.

Steve and Bucky both work on getting their own pajama pants and underwear off, discarding them haphazardly on the floor beside the bed, leaving them both with nothing but the air and their scents between them.

And damn if Bucky now realizes how much he really missed this. Missed seeing Steve laid completely bare before him. Missed seeing _his_ Alpha in all his glory.

“Buck, I… I want…” Steve’s starting to lose focus now that he’s not holding it back. He’s going to lose himself to rut-haze soon if Bucky doesn’t get him refocused.

“What do you want Stevie-boy?”

“I want… you, Buck.”

“C’mere ‘n help me then, dollface.” Bucky reaches across himself with his one hand to grab the bottle of lube on the bed before offering it to Steve. “Get me ready babe.”

The only reply Steve manages to get out is a low, lust-filled growl.

Steve is operating on automatic now, popping the cap on the bottle to squeeze its contents into his hand where he works it over his fingers. His pupils are blown out wide again and he’s staring at Bucky square in the chest, or somewhere near his neck.

“You gonna just sit there or you gonna kiss me Stevie?”

With permission now given, Steve is on Bucky in a split second and smashing his lips on the other man’s. It’s heated, insistent, sloppy, and it absolutely knocks all the oxygen out of his lungs.

Bucky only gets a split second to catch his breath before he feels Steve pressing a thick finger home inside of him. And goddamn if it isn’t both excruciating and exhilarating all at once.

“Oh shit, fuck Steve!” Bucky pulls his leg up and nearly kicks Steve square in the chest but the super-soldier grabs his ankle and throws the leg over his shoulder instead. The change in angle is enough that it causes him to relax against the other man’s finger. Steve seizes that opportunity and slips finger two in alongside the first.

Not only is he practically on the moon, but Bucky is also hard as a rock. His own impressive Alpha cock leaking pre onto his stomach in slow but steady dribbles.

It’s not long before Bucky is clenching and unclenching on Steve’s thick fingers and damn if he isn’t picking up a spike in Steve’s Alpha musk.

Meanwhile, Steve is pressing gentle kisses and licks to the inside of Bucky’s leg, mingling their scents together. There’s one thing for certain now; if it wasn’t for the fact that the rooms here are individually temperature and pressure controlled then _everyone_ in The Refuge would be able to smell the distinct scent of Alpha on Alpha happening in here. Well, it’s probably for the best that no one else can smell it because it’d sure as hell be difficult to explain exactly what they’re doing right now.

Bucky lets out his own plaintive whine when Steve removes his fingers to begin stroking his own rapidly growing member. “So nice Buck.”

Looking up, Bucky sees that Steve is still staring at him absent-eyed. “Be nice, okay Stevie?”

Steve inches forward, bringing the head of his cock into contact with Bucky’s spasming entrance. “Always nice, Buck. Always nice to my…” his voice trails off.

“Your what babe?”  Bucky’s just trying to keep Steve talking now, hoping that doing so will help him past the rut-haze that’s starting to take hold of him.

“Just my.” Steve replies as his hips rock forward, adding pressure.

When the head of Steve’s cock head slips past the tight ring of muscle, stars explode in Bucky’s vision. Sweet Mary mother of Jesus, he’s missed this. And he’ll be damned if the sensations he’s experiencing aren’t pulling up memories from his past that he’d thought were lost forever thanks to HYDRA.

It’s as though he’s been transported back to their dingy little apartment in Brooklyn, to that very same moment when he took Steve for the very first time. It’s 1939 all over again, except it’s 2016 and they’re both twice the men they used to be back then.

Not only that, but Steve’s cock may as well be twice the size too.

Time slows down to an agonizing crawl as Steve adds pressure to continue entering Bucky, inch by excruciating inch. “So tight Buck. So good, my…” and his voice trails off again.

“Damn Stevie, so damn big babe,” Bucky manages to grunt out as he continues to be filled by the super-soldier love of his life. “You’re almost there… you’re almost…”

When Steve slides the last inch in, seating himself fully inside, Bucky swears he’s gonna split in two.  A split second later when Steve’s knot hardens and inflates inside him, he nearly loses it.

Bucky arches his neck back at the fullness of having Steve inside him. With God as his witness he swears that Steve’s cock must be lodged somewhere up near his sternum.

There’s a strong spike of _triumphant Alpha_ scent coming from him now as Bucky’s inner Alpha reacts in a small show of victory at having taken his partner into himself fully.

What neither of them realizes is it’s that same spike of scent that pushes Steve fully into his rut-haze.

Moving with a smooth strength only he can manage, Steve runs an arm under Bucky’s back while simultaneously using his other to hold down the man’s one arm at the elbow. A low but strong rumble starts up in the back of his throat as he presses his nose in to scent Bucky again.

Bucky’s mind is reeling at the overload of sensations hitting him while Steve starts to rock his hips in strong but gentle circles, stretching and filling every square millimeter of space inside him. He doesn’t even have enough wits about him to notice that not only is Steve scenting him, he’s also licking gently over his left neck glands.

“Mine,” Steve says in a throaty but barely audible voice.

“Stevie, uh,” is all Bucky manages to reply with, so far gone is he in his own rut-induced daze.

“Mine.” Steve repeats with a low growl just before placing a long, wet lick over Bucky’s neck again.

Bucky’s brain is still trying to register what is happening to him but it’s not finding any purchase through the overload of stimulation.

“ _My Alpha_!” Steve growls with finality right before he bites down hard on Bucky’s neck over his glands.

If stars exploded in his vision at being knotted before, then this is almost a complete white-out.

No sooner than Steve bites down does Bucky’s brain go into 5000% overdrive.  His mind is racing, filled with images, memories and thoughts that are both his own and somehow also not. The edges of his vision have started to go red but that’s quickly taken over with a bright halo of nearly pure white. The only thing he can manage to think is that this is just like being in the chair again.

Scratch that, this is _worse_ than being in the chair. The chair only ever took things away but this is rearranging things and forcing things in while breaking other things apart and piecing them back together again. It’s shards of glass being ground to dust and re-formed into new but familiar shapes of people, places, times, and experiences.

With what little of his mind he has left to use, Bucky manages to think about not biting his tongue. For a second, he tries to bring his arm up so he can bite his hand instead but realizes that Steve has it pinned to the bed.

With each passing second, the blazingly hot halo surrounding his vision is continuing to take over. The pain is shooting from the back of his head up into his eyes and right back to where it came from again.

He needs to, he can’t, he’s not able to concentrate.

Mustering everything his eyes can manage in the final seconds before he whites out, he sees the flesh of Steve’s neck right in front of him. Right there, that’s all that’s left, that’s all he can reach.

And so, with nothing else left and his mind failing him, Bucky opens his mouth and bites down on Steve’s neck as the world around him goes goes up in a blaze of iridescent light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, feel free to yell at me for taking the established "norms" of A/B/O and throwing them in the perverbial blender to come up with this.... thing. :)


	2. Mid-Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky emerges from his white-out to a whole new revelation and he and Steve have to bring the rest of the team in on it, resulting in a rather mixed reception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one but it's still over 2k words.
> 
> Guess it's time to learn a bit more about our boys and the developing pack dynamics going on. :)
> 
> Big kudos out to my betas ATaylor and LeelaLaFleur. (Go read Leela's Obikin fic "Tell Me, Show Me", it's really good!)

* * *

When Bucky’s vision finally cleared, the first thing he noticed was how purely _open_ his mind felt. His head hadn’t felt this light and clear since, well, _ever_.

The second thing he noticed (and it was a _very_ close second) was that Steve was still inside him, still knotted, and still pulsing through the back side of his orgasm.

The third thing to catch his attention is what finally got him to speak. “Holy shit!” He was literally _covered_ in his own jizz. Like, cum-fetish bukake porn amounts of jizz. The crazy thing about it though, is that his own hard, knotted cock is still faintly pulsing, tiny rivulets of jizz leaking from the flared head.

It takes a few more seconds for the rest of his senses to fully begin registering the world around him, mimicking the sensation of puzzle pieces falling into place to create a complete picture in 8k True HD. Tentatively flexing down on Steve’s cock, Bucky is rewarded with not only the feeling of being completely filled, but also that of his own cock being tightly gripped by a ring of tight muscle.

Sensory rebound. He’s heard about this, or read about it perhaps, somewhere before. School? The internet? Coffee shop conversation? He can’t really remember where he’s heard of it as his brain still seems to be searching for a context to the sensation.

Flexing again, the same sensation hits him again and he sees his cock pulse out a quick, if weak, shot of cum at the same time he feels Steve’s do the same inside of him.

Oh damn! _Not_ sensory rebound. Sensory _synchronization_.

But that’s silly, you can’t experience that just from sex, can you?

Bucky finally turns his head to the left where Steve’s face is pressed into the joint where his neck meets the metal of his artificial shoulder to see, tears? Steve is clearly, and steadily, crying.

“Hey, Stevie?”

Steve whines at the sound of Bucky’s voice before replying. “I’m sorry Buck. I’m sorry…”

Why is Steve apologizing for the most mind-blowing sexual experience of his entire life? “Sorry for what babe?”

“I hurt you Buck. I’m so sorry,” is his reply before placing a tentative lick to the side of the other man’s neck.

Yeah, ‘hurt’ is not the word Bucky would use. Maybe something more like ‘mind-blowingly orgasmed into oblivion.’ “You didn’t hurt me Stevie. You never would, not ever.”

Steve whines again before licking the same spot on his neck. “Hurt you Bucky. So sorry…”

Taking a second to think it over, he doesn’t really know why Steve is acting like this. He doesn’t feel like anything hurts at all. Okay fine, his shoulder aches from the fact that he’s missing his prosthetic arm, but that’s nothing that Steve did. In fact, if Bucky is completely honest, he feels better now than he’s felt since he and Steve were kids, kicking around in Brooklyn in the 1930’s.

Realization dawns on him. Steve bit him. So that’s what he’s talking about. Closing his eyes and thinking about his neck though, he still doesn’t feel any pain.  He must not have done any damage if there’s no pain associated with it so why is he so bothered by it?

Using his right hand, thankfully having been released by Steve, he reaches up to touch the left side of his neck and feels around. Everything seems perfectly fine, in fact it doesn’t even seem that he managed to break the skin…

No, he broke the skin. He broke the skin in two places but they’ve already healed. But they haven’t _completely_ healed. They’ve _scarred_ over.

The concept hitting him like an epiphany, Bucky’s eyes shoot open and lock onto the same place on Steve’s neck. There he sees it. The two marks; right where his canine teeth would have been when he ‘returned’ Steve’s bite. Two indentations already healed thanks to the serum in their bodies. Small, clear, and visibly scarred over.

Bucky’s brain drops into autopilot. Two words work their way from the base of his skull and right up to the surface where his mouth utters them without his bidding.

The words come out as an emphatically possessive growl, “My Alpha!”

* * *

Having sent Bucky away with her well-wishes, Wanda continues her self-appointed activity of making breakfast for Team Cap.  Several plates of scrambled eggs, some with vegetables and some plain, a big pile of bacon, waffles, bagels, and an assortment of fruit, spreads and condiments. By the time Clint and Scott finally make an appearance, she’s already constructed a small breakfast buffet for them all.

As she’s finishing setting everything out across the counter, she feels a light ping in the back of her mind. A slight tap at the edge of her enhanced awareness of the world, and minds, around her.

She’ll be the first to admit that she never reads people openly unless they give permission, but she does maintain a healthy awareness of her surroundings and a gentle cognizance of her teammates’ wellbeing. And through that awareness, there’s been a change.

Something in the dynamic of two of their minds has changed.  Not only has it started to change, it’s _still_ changing.

Trying to concentrate on the physical tasks in front of her, Wanda still passively remains aware of the changes that are afoot.

The minds of individuals are succinctly distinct from one another. Each person projects their thoughts and state of mind in an infinitely diverse pallet of colors that are unique to them and them alone. But this change is something new. Something that she’s never seen or felt before with this much clarity or intensity.

The image that she’s imparted with is that of two distinct seasons; summer and winter. Between the two seasons there’s a shift happening. Elements of one season are bleeding into the other while different elements travel the opposite way. Summer’s heat is moving out across the frozen plains of winter while winter’s snow and ice falls and shifts into the fields and open sky of summer.  Each element of each season bleeds seamlessly into the other’s until they’re just one season that is the sum of the two. In the place of summer and winter there is left a soft, cozy, and loving spring.

The shifting of these seasons only takes a few minutes, but the effects linger on the edge of her perception throughout their friendly group breakfast.

The other Avengers in the room casually converse while eating, leaving her to maintain her passive observance as the morning moves forward until, eventually, the changes settle and a quiet peace falls over the new image in her mind. The sight is beautiful, she thinks, like a painting of a green field of grass under a bright blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. It’s tranquil and it’s home.

Smiling to herself, Wanda realizes that everyone has finished eating and is now just talking and gesturing to one another in their excited bid to explain something to someone else.

“So where’re Cap and the Russian cyborg?” Scott asks, finally pulling Wanda out of her observant reverie.

“They’re talking,” she answers quietly. “James needed to talk to Steven about something important.”

“Man, I thought they’d die before missing a meal. Don’t they need like ungodly amounts of food to survive, them being super-soldiers and all?”

“Dude, you have no idea,” answers Clint through a mouthful of bagel.  “Cap eats like a starved horse with bigorexia.”

“Man, do you even know what that is?” asks Sam from where he’s procuring orange juice from the refrigerator.

“Of course I do. I’m _retired_ , not stupid.”

“Uh huh.”

Wanda smiles to herself again, enjoying their relaxed banter. It’s nice to be able to just let the stresses of the past weeks go and be normal for a while. Well, as long as that while may last.

When Bucky and Steve make their appearance again, everyone has already finished eating and completed cleaning up the communal kitchen area. The two super-soldiers have also managed to shower and change before leaving the residential wing but Bucky just _knows_ that the events of the morning are going to cause a _big_ change in the team.  Correction, the _pack_.

Bucky leads them into the room with Steve’s hand firmly gripped in his own.  They’re going to owe everyone some explanations and it’s always best to be clear with these sorts of things. Holding hands will be the _least_ of anyone’s concerns in about ten seconds anyway.

As they approach, Sam is the first to greet them. “Hey, where have you guys been? You missed… holy… what the hell, dude?! You guys reek… like…”

The room falls into complete silence.

So yeah, their shower couldn’t erase their scents and they’ll probably smell the way they do now for the rest of the day. And yes, the smell would probably set everyone else off to some degree. But no, Bucky does not care right now because he just can’t find the effort in him to be anything but a giddy little child on the inside that’s just been granted his #1 life-long wish.

“What the, _seriously_?!” is all Sam manages to get out once he can find his voice again.

Scott’s eyes are nearly double their normal size and his face is a mixture of excited, reverent, and totally overjoyed.   “Dude, this is so AWESOME! You guys are _so_ my heroes!”

Clint just rolls his eyes while smirking and pulling out his phone to take a picture. “Nat owes me a hundred bucks.”

Wanda stays silent but she’s beaming ear to ear like she’s 10 again and someone just bought her a pony.

“So yeah, guys,” Bucky begins, “we’re…”

“ _Bonded_?!” Sam blurts out. “How does that even? How did you? No, you know what? I give up!” he says while throwing his arms in the air.

“So cool!” Scott wheezes out as he slumps down onto the nearest stool.

Wanda bounds up to Bucky and throws her arms around his neck. “You guys smell awful but I’m _so_ happy for you!”

Steve lets out a low growl from behind them before uttering a quiet but pointed “My Alpha!”

“Steven, behave!” admonishes Wanda. “We all know James is yours, so be nice.”

“Bad Steve, down boy!” Sam adds from where he’s standing with his arms crossed.

“Go easy on him guys, he’s still coming down from his rut-high,” Bucky informs them while giving Steve’s hand a firm squeeze.

Turning back towards Wanda, Bucky’s face goes completely serious. “Wanda, I have a favor to ask, and you can say no if you want, but I need to find out.”

Taking a step back, she regards him with a questioning air,  “Okay, what is it you’re asking me to do?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure but I feel different after… what Steve and I did.” Bucky scrunches his face up as he tries to find the right words to make his thoughts more clear. “It’s strange but my head seems, lighter? More open. Like I can think clearly again.”

“Is this some side effect of you guys being…” Sam gestures open handed between him and Steve, “ _whatever_ you guys are now?”

“I dunno,” Bucky states. “I just know that I remember. I remember everything from my and Steve’s lives together as kids. I remember everything from before and during the war. And it doesn’t hurt to remember anymore either. I can just think about a memory and it comes right back like it should.”

“James, this is wonderful for you!” Wanda says through a smile. “So what is the favor you need from me?”

Bucky knows there’s no easy way to ask for what he wants but he has to find out. He needs to know if whatever has happened in his head means he can be free again. Free to live, free to have a life, free to _love_.

“Everything in my head seems right now, but different too and I have to find out.” Sighing, he braces himself for what he has to ask her to do. “I hate askin you this Wanda, but I want you to use the Red Book and try to trigger the Soldier.”

For the second time in the same morning, the room is once again deathly silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, feel free to rant, rave, or scream at me for messing with the A/B/O "Rule Book". #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Next chapter promises to be a doozy ;)


	3. Mid-Morning to Early Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's mind is made up, super-soldiers temporarily become hungry puppies and then there's the triggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to all, the Soldier's trigger words are used here and all but two of them bring up memories that are fluffy as fuark! That said, if the POV in the memories doesn't make sense, that's because it's not supposed to until the end of the chapter. Just read through it and feel free to rant at my writing style in the comments section if you so choose.
> 
> Yo dawg! I heard you like triggers! So I put a trigger on your trigger so you can fire your triggers with their triggers' triggers! *mic drop*  
> (Yes, I'm exceptionally odd!)
> 
> Let the sh!t show begin! :D

* * *

“James, are you sure about this?” Wanda asks.

“I saw that once already and I do _not_ want to see that again.” Sam comments, clearly not a fan of the idea. “Also, you punched me in the face, dude. You do _not_ touch the face!”

“Look guys, I know this could all go sideways,” Bucky explains while Steve steps up to place his chin reassuringly on his partner’s shoulder, “but I need to know. I need to know if I’m free from the Soldier. If _Steve_ and I are free from the Soldier.”

“You know there are about a million different ways that could go totally wrong, right?” comes Sam’s question. He knows this is not a good idea, no matter how badly Bucky may or may not need to know.

“Yes,” Wanda answers.

“Yes it’s a bad idea?  Or yes it’s…”

“Yes, I will do it. For James and for Steven,” she answers with finality.

“Your funeral, man,” Sam calls over his shoulder while making his way towards the nearby lounge area.

Wanda’s answer now decided, Buck turns to face Steve. “Stevie, you okay?”

“No, Buck. I’m not okay,” the man answers as the distinct smell of _worried Alpha_ spikes slightly. “But I’ll do anything for you. I’ll be there to help, and to stop you, if I have to. I can’t lose you again.”

Wanda smiles again as a single, small tear escapes her eye. ‘ _These two are hopeless_ ’ she thinks. It’s a childish notion but maybe, just maybe, love really _can_ heal the broken.  “You guys are probably hungry. I can make some more food for you if you like?”

“Thanks Wanda,” Steve answers first. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” she replies easily. “I don’t have to, but I will. You guys are my family and that is what family does.”

A small smile cracks on Steve’s face and he moves forward to wrap Wanda up in a huge hug. “Thank you, Wanda.”

Bucky looks on while smiling himself. He’s almost amazed at how easily Steve steps into the ‘big brother’ role with the young female Omega, like it’s as simple as being second nature to him.

“But seriously guys,” Wanda says while pulling out of Steve’s grasp and wrinkling her nose. “You really do smell terrible!”

“Yeah, we heard you the first time.” Steve says through a small laugh.

“Now come on, you guys need food.”

* * *

The pair of Alphas sat in companionable silence while Wanda cooked for them.  Bucky managed to procure another cup of coffee for himself and a second one for Steve before they took up two of the counter-height stools. Sighing contentedly, Bucky laid his head on Steve’s shoulder and let the feeling and scent of _happy Alpha_ wash over both of them.

He never would have thought it possible, before today, to be able to sit here next to Steve and enjoy a relaxed morning free of the shadows in his own mind. ‘ _I could get used to this_ ,’ his brain supplied for him as the moment continued on.

Once Wanda placed food in front of them, their appetites returned with renewed vigor. It took them a grand total of four minutes for them both to clean their plates and down glasses of both orange juice and milk before handing their empty platters back to Wanda along with expectant puppy-dog looks.

“You guys are ridiculous!” she laughs while taking their empty plates and filling them a second time. It’s as though these two revert to being hungry puppies when presented with good food. But that’s okay, they can be her hungry puppies for the next few minutes.

* * *

Following breakfast and getting some quiet time to themselves, along with a second shower (Wanda insisted), the early afternoon finds Bucky seated in a holding room across from Wanda, a simple metal table between them, and Steve standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

Clint and Scott, now jointed by T’Challa, are standing in the room’s viewing gallery behind the now-inactive two-way safety glass mirror. Sam, however, has opted not to participate in this mad attempt for reasons of ‘personal sanity and mental wellbeing.’

In front of Wanda on the table is the simple red leather-bound book that, up until this point, has been Bucky’s Enemy #1. The rather innocuous visage of the star imprinted on the leather would be nice, Wanda thinks, if it wasn’t for the fact that that star represents the KGB’s, and HYDRA’s, control over The Winter Soldier. A book of horrors used to control and manipulate the honorable man known as James Buchannan Barnes.

In the viewing room, Scott turns to Clint, “Are we _sure_ she’s the best one to be doing this?”

Clint shrugs. “She speaks more Russian than anyone except Barnes, she’s by _far_ the most powerful of any enhanced we’ve encountered, and she _wants_ to do this. Besides, the worse that could happen is she triggers the Soldier and then gives him a mission to give Cap a massage or make us all lunch or something.”

"I could do lunch," Scott muses in return.

“It is her choice to do this and hers alone,” comes T’Challa’s smooth voice. “She can handle herself.”

“If you guys say so…”

Wanda opens the book in front of her, turning to the page containing the words that will become Bucky’s undoing and once again turn him into the Soldier.  Looking up to where the man is sitting in front of her, “Are you ready James?”

Bucky lets out a slow exhale before closing his eyes and replying. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Looking down to the page and readying herself to call upon her powers if necessary, she begins speaking.

“Желание.” ( _Zhelaniye_ ) [Longing]

Bucky’s mind slides backward, like being pulled through the scenes in a movie while running in the wrong direction. The images in front of him settle into a scene that he can now easily remember.  It’s the front gate of his high school in Brooklyn, it’s Friday, school is letting out, and he has a baseball game to be at. The memory plays in front of him and he catches sight of the person he’s looking for ahead of him. “Bucky, wait up!” he hears his own mouth utter. The person ahead of him turns around and flashes him a big smile. “Hey Stevie, you ready to see the Dodgers kick some ass?” “’Course I am, ya jerk. Been waitin all week.” There’s a firm, warm arm wrapped around his shoulders and this is what he’s wanted, what he’s been _longing_ for.  Time with him is worth more than time spent doing anything else in the whole world.

“Ржавый.”  ( _Rzhavyy_ ) [Rusted]

The images around him shift and change until he’s in a new memory. He’s sitting on the fire escape outside of his and Steve’s apartment.  The metal structure under him is _rusted_ and worn, but he always enjoys spending time sitting out here. He has a sketchpad resting on his knees with a half-finished sketch of the New York City skyline drawn out before him.  There’s the slight sound of steps on the metal stairs behind him and then two strong legs are bracketing him in on his sides and a face pressing into the back of his head. “What’cha doin Stevie?” “Just drawin’, Buck.” Two warm arms drape themselves forward over his shoulders and wrap around him from behind. “You always amaze me, you know that Steve?” “What’s so amazin?” “Just you, Stevie. Just you.”

“Cемнадцать.” ( _Semnadtsat_ ) [Seventeen]

The fire escape falls away quickly and he’s standing in a modestly appointed living room. It’s birthday time and Steve is turning _seventeen_.  He has the perfect gift picked out and it just so happens that it’s exactly the right time to give it to him. Sarah is looking on with all the love in the world in her eyes at her son where they’re now sitting at the table. “Well go ahead Stevie, open it up!” he hears Bucky say next to him. His hands move over the tissue paper and he quickly tears into it to reveal a half-page leather-bound sketch book with the letters SGR branded into the bottom right corner. “Oh my God, Buck, you shouldn’ have! This must’a cost a fortune!” “Nah, it was worth it for you ya punk.” Once again, those strong arms wrap around him as a chaste kiss is pressed into his hair. “Happy Birthday Stevie!”

“Pассвет.” ( _Rassvet_ ) [Daybreak]

The scene in the living room fades out and is replaced by a bedroom. He’s in bed and there’s a warm hand wound gently around his waist from behind.  The sun is just beginning to peek in through the window, signaling the _break of day_ and the arrival of a new morning.  The night before had been their first time together. The first time they had decided that they wanted each other more than anyone else and that they’d never want anyone else again. There’s movement behind him followed by a gravelly voice speaking into his hair. “G’mornin’ Stevie.” “G’mornin’ to you too, Buck.” “Mmmmmm, know what Steve?” “Hrm? What, Buck?” “Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ is all.” “Oh, whatcha thinkin’?” “Jus’ thinkin’ how much I love ya.” A smile breaks across his face at the sound of those words. “Ya, Buck. I love ya too.”

“Печь.” ( _Pech_ ) [Furnace]

The bedroom changes slightly and now he’s under the covers alone.  His chest aches, his head is pounding and he’s sweating profusely.  Pneumonia always knocks Steve on his ass in the winter and combined with the constantly spiking fever, it feels like a _furnace_ in the bedroom. His attention is grabbed by the sound of the door creaking open where he sees Bucky walking in with a clean towel draped over his shoulder and a bowl of ice water. “Hey there Stevie, ya doin’ okay?” “Hurts, Buck,” he replies as hard coughs cause his chest to thrash and send spikes of pain up and down his spine. Bucky sets the bowl down and wets the towel before placing it over his forehead. “Don’ worry, buddy, I gotcha.” With the cool towel on his forehead he leans his head to the side, seeking out Bucky’s hand. “You’re always so good to me, Buck.” “Nah, Stevie. Just treatin’ ya how ya deserve ta be,” he says through a smile.

“Aевять.” ( _Devyat_ ) [Nine]

The bedroom spins around him to be replaced by a lightly fog-covered forest. He’s just hit the ground, his parachute bundled up and now hidden behind a tree, and he’s got a rescue mission to complete.  Digging into his right cargo pocket, he pulls out his tactical map and double-checks his position.  There’s a ravine to his west and the ridge ahead of him continues forward before branching off to the east. Checking the map again, he notes his location and his destination. _Nine_ miles. He has nine miles to travel through the foggy woods to reach where he needs to go. He’s alone, but he’s determined and he can do this. Hefting the shield resting on his left forearm, he steels himself for the march ahead and sets off toward Azzano.

“Aобросердечный.” ( _Dobroserdechnyy_ ) [Benign]

Taking a step forward, the Italian forests rush past and leave him standing in Brooklyn alley. He can hear a commotion head of him, just on the other side of some dumpsters and piles of trash.  Walking forward, he sees a large teen, likely an Alpha, standing over two young girls that are cowering in a corner, probably Omegas.  Bracing himself and straightening up to his full height, he bolts forward as fast as he can before jumping up and landing and solid punch to the bridge of the bully’s nose. “Leave them alone!”  The bully takes a step back while feeling his nose before answering. “Damn stupid Omegas! Don’t know when to jus’ shut up and be _docile_.” “Yeah, well they don’ look interested.” The bully’s nostrils flare just before he reaches forward with his fist. There’s barely any time to block but he manages to get his arms up just in enough time that his forearms take the majority of the beating, but the force of it still knocks him on his ass. Shaking it off, he stands again and puts his arms up in indignance. “I can do this all day, pal.”

“Возвращение на родину.” ( _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu_ ) [Homecoming]

The sounds and the scene change again as the grungy alley is replaced with an only slightly less grungy stairwell.  He’s marching up toward their fourth-floor apartment after having worked a too-long shift at the local corner store.  Fumbling through his pocket for his keys, he finds the one for the front door and lets himself in.  He feels completely tired and worn out, the energy he’d had this morning completely sapped away, leaving him an empty shell.  No sooner than he’s dropped his messenger bag and toed his shoes off inside the door than there is a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist and gently turning him around. “Welcome home, Stevie,” comes Bucky’s gentle and soothing voice. “Heya, Buck.” “Di’ja miss me?” “I always miss ya, ya jerk.” “Mmmhmm, punk,” Bucky says as he presses his lips to Steve’s, sending both of them into a moment of pure, but gentle, revelry. This is the kind of _homecoming_ he wants to have every day.  Just this and only this.

“Oдин.” ( _Odin_ ) [One]

Furnishings and settings fall and rise again only to leave him sitting at a table in a bombed out bar. There’s a half-full bottle of scotch and an empty shot glass sitting in front of him. His heart is empty for the first time in his life and he’s forgotten how to feel.  A void is starting to eat him from the inside out and he’s about to drown in the darkness. “Steve?” a female, Beta, voice asks from behind him. “I can’t even get drunk,” he says to no one as he tips the whole bottle back and lets the scotch burn his throat.  Still, he doesn’t feel. He doesn’t feel anything when a reassuring hand is placed on his shoulder or when he tosses the bottle across the room where it shatters against the wall. “I can’t go on Peg.” “You have to, Steve.” “No, I can’t. He was it. He was my _one_. I can’t go on without him.”

“Грузовой вагон.” ( _Gruzovoy vagon_ ) (Freight Car)

The wooden counters and shatter glass of the bar are ripped away from his perception and replaced with the freezing cold of rushing wind on his cheeks. He has a death grip on the inside of the _freight car_ he’s in and he’s reaching down and out the door. “Hold on!”  The train car is rocking as it thunders down the tracks and the sound of metal giving way is all he can hear. “Hold on!” He sees his own face staring back up at him in abject fear, white knuckles gripping the wrecked railing on the side of the car’s door.  When the last screw holding the rail on snaps, a piece of him dies inside as he watches himself fall away into the flurry of snow below. “Buckyyyyy!”

The world around him goes silent and all he can hear is his own breathing. He can make out the soft sound of the leather book being closed on the table before him and he opens his eyes. He can see Wanda and the others standing in the clear window behind her.

It’s actually amazing, really. His head feels completely clear. His mind is open and clear. Taking a deep breath, he lets all the tension he’d been holding in his body out while he slowly exhales.

“Cолдат?” (Soldat?) [Soldier?] Wanda asks as red energy bristles over the fingers of her left hand.

Bucky looks up towards her and smiles while shaking his head ‘no.’

He’s free! He’s actually well and completely _free_!

Looking to his right where Steve is standing, Bucky is about to speak up when Steve beats him to it.

“Готов выполнить.” ( _Gotov vypolnit'._ ) [Ready to comply.] Steve says. His voice is completely devoid of emotion as he utters the words with a perfectly executed Russian accent.

Bucky’s face, along with Wanda’s, goes completely pale. They glance between each other before they both look back towards where Steve is standing. His eyes are vacant and blank, pupils drawn down into small circles while his arms are slack at his side.

Reaching for an explanation and trying to buy some sort of time, Wanda tries to read the situation. “Солдат, стоять для параметров миссии.” ( _Soldat , stoyat' dlya parametrov missii._ ) [Soldier, stand by for mission parameters.] she says.

“Параметры миссии уже установлены.” ( _Parametry missii uzhe ustanovleny._ )  [Mission parameters already set.]  Steve says flatly.

Now both Bucky and Wanda are completely confused. How could Steve, or the Soldier, already have a mission? No one has given him any instructions so there shouldn’t even _be_ a mission. Bucky is the one who speaks up to address the Soldier-slash-Steve.

“Государственной вашей миссии.” ( _Gosudarstvennoy vashey missii_.) [State your mission.] Bucky says while trying to sound firm and commanding.

“Защита цели.” ( _Zashchita tseli._ ) [Defend target.] is the Soldier’s simple answer.

Wanda turns to look at Bucky and all he can do is shrug at her questioning look. Who, or what, is his target? And who exactly instructed him to protect them/it? This doesn’t make any sense to them at all, let alone why the triggers have caused Steve to react and _not_ Bucky.

Settling on the only question that’s left to ask, Wanda finally says “Государственные вашей цели.” (Gosudarstvennyye vashey tseli.) [State your target.]

When the Soldier answers, it’s as though everything for Bucky suddenly falls into place. The answer that comes is the one answer that both explains all the morning’s events while also opening up an entirely new encyclopedia’s worth of unanswered questions.

The soldier replies with the addition of a growl in his voice. “Мой альфа!” (Moy al'fa!) [ _My_ Alpha!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh noez! I borked Steeb!
> 
> Tooooonnnnyyyy help me fix Steeb! Pwease!
> 
> Ugh, where do I come up with this crap? lol
> 
> Next chapter will contain some much needed explanation as to why what happened in this chapter happened and then some not so pretty things happen...


	4. Early Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has had it, the Soldier tries and fails, and Wanda has a very long day ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter and think the wrong thing, Tony does NOT have feelings for Cap. He's just a possessive dick sometimes. That's all. :)

* * *

Bucky lets himself drop to the chair behind him as his thoughts start to sort themselves.

He thought he was free. He thought he’d finally managed to get away. That, somehow, Steve had healed the broken parts of his mind when they bonded.

But, that’s not what happened. No, his memories hadn’t been fixed or repaired or put back together. They had been _replaced_ . The memories now in his head weren’t his own, they were _Steve’s_.

Thinking back a minute to Wanda reading each trigger word, the memories now made some crazy kind of sense. Those memories were the ones that HYDRA had used to control him and turn him into the Soldier. They had perverted his own memories of Steve and everything he felt for the man and used each and every one against him. But what he saw, he hadn’t seen as though he was himself. He’d experienced those memories from _Steve’s_ point of view.

Each of those memories was how Steve saw _him_.

All these things together only brought up one conclusion:  the triggers were now tied to Steve’s memories.  The only difference is that Steve wasn’t _actually_ brainwashed. The only explanation was that the Soldier’s programming was latching onto those memories and creating its own mission out of them. That mission is to protect the focal point of all of those memories:  Bucky.

Tears began welling in the corners of his eyes as realization dawned on him.  Steve had always been the Howling Commando’s shield. He was always the first into the fray so that he could stand ahead and hold back the tide for as long as he had to. Then, from what he knew of his time leading the Avengers, he’d taken on the same role. Steve was always at the front, holding back the bad guys so his team could do their job.

Now that job, in some way, included holding back the world to protect _him_. Steve’s impeccable moral compass had been filed down to a needle-sharp point and Bucky had become its magnetic North.

As the first hot tears streamed down his cheeks, Bucky felt a large, firm, warm hand grip his good shoulder. When he opens his eyes and looks up, he’s met with the face of Steve. Correction, the Soldier.

The Soldier’s face regards him with a relaxed yet unreadable expression before speaking.

“My Alpha,” the Soldier states in clear English, his voice firm but soft.

Not knowing what else to even say, Bucky simply says the first thing that comes to his mind. “I want Steve.”

The Soldier’s expression changes to one of mild dejection as he answers. “I am unable to comply.”

So what now? The Soldier can’t bring Steve back? Bucky doesn’t want the Soldier, he wants _his_ Alpha!

“I don’t want _you_ ,” Bucky states flatly as his emotions start to become jumbled within himself. “I want _Steve_.”

“I,” the Soldier begins but falters in his words before continuing. “I am unable to comply.”

‘I don’t care,’ is all Bucky’s brain can think of right now.

Wanda visibly flinches from where she’s still standing on the other side of the table as Bucky starts to give off the scent of _agitated Alpha_.

“I want Steve,” he says through now gritted teeth.

The Soldier lets his hand fall from his shoulder and looks down at the ground. “I am unable to comply.”

Bucky can’t take this. This whole thing is screwed up fifty different ways and all he wants is his Alpha back. But he was a fool if he thought he’d ever be free of the Soldier and now the Soldier has taken the only good thing he has in his life.

Once again, the Soldier tries to address him. “My Alpha.”

Bucky shoots up from his seat and shoves the Soldier away from him. “Shut up, shut up, _SHUT THE FUCK UP_ ! I don’t want you! I want _Steve_ ! I want _MY ALPHA BACK_!”

* * *

Scott, Clint and T’Challa watch on from the viewing gallery as Wanda reads each of the Soldier’s trigger words.

“She makes those words sound nice when she says them,” Scott says while watching the scene in front of him.

“I bet,” Clint answers from where he’s watching with his arms crossed.

“Never underestimate the power of words. They can be as sharp as a blade or as powerful as a hammer. Respect them lest you be bested by them,” T’Challa adds while keeping his gaze on the room ahead of them.

“That was, poetic…” Scott muses.

“Poetry can be a key to the soul. The Soldier is no exception.” The smooth voice of the Wakandan King speaks with far more wisdom than his age would suggest.

“Heads up,” says Clint while nodding at the glass. “That was the last one.”

All three of them are looking through the glass as Wanda finishes speaking and closes the book in front of her.  The space of several heartbeats ticks by as Wanda attempts to address the Soldier, and then Steve answers.

“Готов выполнить.”

“Um… that’s not right, is it?” Scott asks, looking back and forth between the other two men.

“This is bad,” Clint says as he quickly pulls his phone out and holds down a speed dial number.

“Their bond is strong it seems,” T’Challa says while taking a step toward the window. “Too strong, perhaps.”

“So wait, Cap is now the Winter Soldier?!” Scott can’t seem to get his thoughts together and he hopes he’s not just babbling right now. But yeah, he’s definitely going to be babbling. “What are we supposed to call him then? Captain Winter? The American Soldier? Captain Soldier of the American Winter?”

Clint has stepped away from the mildly frantic ‘junior’ Avenger to concentrate on his phone call.  “Hey, yeah… Got a situation here… Yeah, not quite…Uh, call it a Code Winter?… No, it’s not Barnes, it’s Cap… Yeah, _CAP_!… No, I don’t know how… Look, just get over here… Yeah sure, bring his ass too… Okay fine… Where are you guys?… How long?… Yeah, that’ll work… See you then.”

Ending the call, Clint slides his phone back into his pocket before turning toward T’Challa. “Nat will be here in two hours. She’s bringing Stark too. Any problems with that?”

“I harbor no ill will against either of them. I will let my people know.” And with that, the King makes his exit from the room.

“Two hours? That’s fast. Where are they?” Scott asks once T’Challa has departed.

“Johannesburg,” Clint answers. “Some post-cleanup PR thing from last year when the Hulk kinda broke… downtown.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that on the news when I was in jail. Intense shit.”

“Yeah. Stark also blew up their brand new unfinished trade-center building in downtown before buying it and then rebuilding it twice as big.”

“That was nice of him at least.”

The two men look out the viewing window once again to see that Bucky is now yelling at Steve/the Soldier (they really need a better name for _that_ ).

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Clint remarks.

“Is it weird for me to say that I’d still trust Cap with Cassie even when he’s all Winter Soldier-y?”

Clint hangs his head. “Fanboys.”

* * *

“Okay, so, fill me in here. _Why_ are you flying me to Wakanda against my will?” Stark asks from where he’s seated in the Quinjet’s copilot seat.

“Because Steve needs our help and I know that you’re not _actually_ mad at him anymore,” says Natasha from where she’s currently piloting. “Also, they’ve encountered an ‘unusual’ Code Winter situation that somehow _isn’t_ Barnes.”

“So Robo-hobo isn’t the one going all murderface on someone?”

“Not quite.”

“Okay…” Stark thinks this over for a second before proceeding. “Who _is_ going all murderface on someone?”

“No one, apparently.”

“What?! So why _are_ we going?!”

“Rogers did something to help Barnes with his brainwashing issue and it worked.  Slight hiccup is now Captain America is brainwashed and is acting like the Winter Soldier.”

“What the _fuck_ ?!  Robocop broke _my Capsicle_?!”

“He’s not _yours_ , Stark.”

Ever since Pepper called off her and Tony’s engagement, the man has been trying to consolidate himself around the people, and things, he has around him that are familiar. So, despite their fall-out over Barnes’ involvement in the death of his parents, Stark still sees Steve as one of his own. Stark is nothing if not a _very_ possessive Alpha.

“I don’t care. I say he’s mine and that makes him mine. He’s my Steeb and nobody breaks my Steeb but me.”

“I get the feeling that’s going to come back and bite you in the ass.”

“As long as Steve is doing the biting, I’m totally okay with that.”

“He’s more likely to tear it in half if the Soldier has any say in it.”

“You know, you’d think I’d be put off by that but I’m actually not. He can do whatever he wants with my ass. I’m open-minded like that,” Stark answers matter-of-factly.

“No comment.”

“Damn straight, lady.”

* * *

Following his outburst in the holding room Bucky had decided he’d rather be in the common rooms and had stormed off. Steve/the Soldier followed him out wearing an expression akin to that of a kicked puppy that just wanted attention but kept a safe distance to give Bucky space.

After gathering her nerves, Wanda pocketed the Red Book and followed them out and towards the common spaces.

When she walked into the communal lounge area, the sight before her caused her heart to sink. Bucky had flopped down on one of the couches and curled up on himself to shut out the world while the Soldier stood just inside the doorway with his arms clasped behind his back and his gaze directed down toward the ground.

Wanda felt sorry for the Soldier, knowing that he really only exists as a shadow of a person and not a whole being.  The most easily notable thing about him was that he, quite literally, smelled like _nothing_.

Steve, to her at least, smelled like a summer breeze after a light rain when he was happy and her mind conjured images of warm blankets and steaming tea whenever he was being protective. But the Soldier? He smelled like nothing at all.

Bucky, by contrast, tended to smell like sandalwood, s’mores and winter wind when he was happy or contented and rubber tinged with gun oil when he was on guard.

Deciding to handle them separately, she went up to Steve/the Soldier first. “Would you like to sit down?”

“I,” the Soldier began before stopping and considering her words. “I am defective.”

She gives him a small smile before answering. “Everyone is in some small way or another. That does not mean there is anything _wrong_ with you.”

The Soldier thinks over her words before giving his reply. “My Alpha does not want me.”

If she can just keep him talking, she thinks, then maybe she can put more pieces of the Soldier’s puzzle together. “Do you know his name?”

“He is… My Alpha.”

“That is _what_ he is. Do you know _who_ he is?”

“I,” he pauses again before starting over. “I do not know his name.”

That would make sense if the Soldier is pulling purely from Steve’s instincts.

Wanda simply thinks to herself, ‘This is going to take a while…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you guys feel in the mood for a Stucky fic that's more serious plot and action set in an AU, go read my other fic "Totalled & Rekalled" in my profile.
> 
> I'm promise you guys it's actually pretty decent. :)


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